We’re in Paris, gazing up at “la Cathédrale Notre-Dame de Paris.” It’s been a month since the fire. If you’re a fan of Victor Hugo’s “The Hunchback of Notre Dame,” you can’t walk by the great church in its current state without thinking of poor old Quasimodo, the hunchback himself. In the story, it’s he who starts the church on fire. OK, that was a bad thing to do, but he had his reasons…
Writing in 1831, Victor Hugo set the story of “Notre Dame de Paris” in 15th century Paris. As mentioned last time, Quasimodo’s guardian, an archdeacon named Frollo, had the hots for a beautiful gypsy girl named Esmeralda. He ordered Quasimodo to kidnap her. Things didn’t go well, and Quasimodo ended up in the pillory, doomed. Esmeralda pities him, gives him a drink of water, saves his life, and it’s Quasimodo’s turn to be crazy in love with Esmeralda.
Quasimodo
Victor Hugo was a master with the pen. Here’s how he describes Quasimodo to us for the first time:
“We shall not attempt to give the reader an idea of that tetrahedron nose – that horse-shoe mouth – that small left eye over-shadowed by a red bushy brow, while the right eye disappeared entirely under an enormous wart – of those straggling teeth with breaches here and there like the battlements of a fortress-of that horny lip, over which one of those teeth projected like the tusk of an elephant – of that forked chin – and, above all, of the expression diffused over the whole-that mixture of malice, astonishment, and melancholy. Let the reader, if he can, figure to himself this combination.”
— And that was just his face. Yikes! Here comes the rest of him…
“There was a large head bristling with hair; between his shoulders an enormous hump, with a corresponding prominence in front; legs and thighs so singularly crooked that they only touched at the knees, and, seen from the front, resembled two reaping hooks united at the handle; broad feet, huge hands, and with all this deformity, a certain awe-inspiring air of vigor, agility, and courage. He looked like a giant broken to pieces and badly cemented together.”
I hope you’re not reading this as you doze off to sleep for the night!
Esmeralda
“Victor Hugo and His Time” by Alfred Barbou, 1882
To counter Hugo’s description of Quasimodo, let’s indulge ourselves with his description of Esmeralda…
“She was not tall, but she seemed to be, so proudly erect did she hold her slender figure. She was brown, but it was evident by daylight her skin must have that lovely golden gleam peculiar to Spanish and Roman beauties. Her tiny foot was Andalusian too, for it fitted both snugly and easily into her dainty shoe. She danced, she turned, she twirled, upon an antique Persian carpet thrown carelessly beneath her feet; and every time her radiant figure passed, as she turned, her great black eyes sent forth lightning flashes.”
And when she danced…
“Upon her every eye was riveted, every mouth gaped wide, and in very truth, as she danced to the hum of the tambourine which her round and graceful arms held high above her head, slender, quick and active as any wasp, with smoothly fitting golden bodice, her many-colored full skirts, her bare shoulders, her shapely legs, from which her skirts now and then swung away, her black hair, her eyes of flame, she seemed more than a mortal creature.”
That’s good stuff, eh?
There’s a whole cast of 15-century Parisian characters as only Victor Hugo could describe them. A key figure was an inept playwright named Gringoire. Gringoire gets himself in serious trouble with law. (Apparently that was pretty easy to do in 15-century Paris). The enchanting Esmeralda saves his bacon by marrying him, even though she’s really in love with a captain in the army.
Trouble
Messing around with that captain would prove to be a fateful move. A murder attempt is made on the captain’s life, and Esmeralda gets stuck with the murder rap. She was sentenced to be hanged on the gibbet right in front of Notre Dame cathedral – right in front of Quasimodo.
The day of Esmeralda’s hanging arrived. There was no way Quasimodo was going to let that happen. The deed was just about to be done, but at the last possible second, Quasimodo swooped down, grabbed Esmeralda, and climbed back up with her to the top of the cathedral.
There was a 15th century Parisian law saying, more or less, that if there’s something akin to divine intervention, it must be fate, and the charges are to be dropped. Esmeralda would be safe as long as she never left the cathedral. Quasimodo took care of her there, but after awhile, the local potentates decided that she had to be hanged after all. They’d sent in troops to get her.
All Hell Breaks Loose
Esmeralda’s supporters got wind of the plan. They rounded up everyone they knew and stormed Notre Dame at night with torches and battering rams. Then the army showed up, and all hell broke loose. Quasimodo threw down stones and huge pieces of timber from the rafters onto the melee below. He built a fire, and poured molten lead on anyone trying to get into the cathedral. (And as we know from the previous post, there were tons of lead available in Notre Dame’s roof).
The end of the story is near, but in case you’re going to read the book, and you don’t want to know what happens next, I’ll move the ending to the Travel Notes, Paris Page, here.
Let’s just say he might be up there still.
To be continued…
